


Apollo Fan Club

by melloneddy



Category: Les Miserables
Genre: Crying Enjolras, Enjolras is angsty, Enjolras/Grantaire - Freeform, Fan Club, Gen, Humor, If You Squint - Freeform, Jehan wears a hat, Modern AU, also nothing unusual, and shirts, apollo - Freeform, enjolras is called enchiladas, grantaire calls enjolras apollo, grantaire is obviously pining but nothing is done about it, grantaire makes a fan club, it gets really angsty in the middle but it's really ridiculous, it rains as well, kind of a crack fic, so nothing unusual, sorry - Freeform, there are Enjolras hats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melloneddy/pseuds/melloneddy
Summary: Crack fic, but not really. Grantaire has an idea...."Why don't we start an Apollo Fan Club?"





	Apollo Fan Club

"Why don't we start an Apollo Fan Club?"  
Nine pairs of eyes stared at him.  
"Um, Grantaire," piped up Courfeyrac, "are you feeling alright?"  
"I assure you, my friends, that I am perfectly all right. In fact, I am better than usual, as a result of coming up with so great an idea!"  
Joly frowned at him.  
"But why don't we? Enj gets angry whenever there's the slightest sign of any of you giving some sort of attention to another club or gathering. Combeferre, he once berated you for joining a book club! Come on, let's. And let's be incessantly annoying about it, too. We'll make hats, T-shirts, pins--"  
"One second!"  
Eponine, standing quietly in the back of the room, had not been noticed for some time and suddenly felt a need to make herself heard. "If we want to go about this, we'll need a plan, meeting rooms, printers, flyers, and do we want anyone else to be able to join? Honestly, I myself think that this will rather be some fun, but we'll need somebody to handle all the organizing and nitpicky bits."  
Everyone looked at Combeferre. He sighed.  
"Fine."  
Marius frowned. "Wait." He looked up at Grantaire, clutching Cosette's hand under the table for support. "We know he gets mad when we join other clubs...I don't want him to yell at me, or anyone else--"  
"Tis true. Apollo's wrath is a fearsome thing, and not desired by any man nor woman. But he can hardly get angry at his own fan club, can he? Come on, Marius. Let's talk sense. Besides, it'd be inherently fun!" Grantaire continued to talk, seemingly oblivious to the sudden quiet which had descended upon the room. Eventually, he trailed off, looking around confusedly. "What's wrong? What is it? Why--"  
He looked behind himself nervously, and was met with a brazen statue, fierce and terrible in its anger.  
He gulped.  
"Hello, Enjolras."  
"What. Is. Going. On." Enjolras' face was hard as stone, and just as flawless. He surveyed the room slowly, eyes resting on each individual person before settling on Grantaire, who drew back petrified. "What exactly is going to be fun?"  
Sputtering, Grantaire looked around pleadingly, begging someone, anyone, to pick up and draw together the loose ends. Finally, Courfeyrac piped up timidly with a "We were discussing--um--how to recruit more members for Combeferre's book club?"  
Enjolras frowned. "You know I prize your attention, and I need it fully on our protest next week. I appreciate that you all try to help each other, but it would be beneficial to all of us to keep our full attention spans on what is most important. Namely, the protest."  
And with that, he left the room.  
With Enjolras gone, everyone erupted into laughter. Grantaire grinned.  
"So, when do you think we should meet?"  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Two weeks later, the Musain was in shambles.  
Everyone was muttering anxiously. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Marius and Cosette were huddled in a corner whispering frantically to half the Amis. Combeferre and Courfeyrac occupied the other corner, muttering anxiously and wringing their hands. Jean Prouvaire, hysterical, was being calmed by Bousset and Joly, who were trying to distract him with flowers and ice cream (stolen from the back room of the Musain).  
What was the cause of all this tension?  
Well, simply one thing.  
Enjolras was late.  
Grantaire had checked his phone twenty-seven times in the last hour. Cosette had begun to cry. Even Eponine had abandoned her longing stares at Marius and was muttering conspiracy theories to Bahorel in the corner. And Musichetta, awkwardly working the counter, was warily glancing at the windows whenever anyone passed by to see if it was him.  
The Musain remained in this state for the better part of two hours. Finally, Combeferre stood and announced, "This is doing nobody any good. We're all nervous and fidgety--someone stop Cosette's sobbing--and if we stay like this for much longer Musichetta is going to kick all of us out and ban us from meeting here ever again. We should just go home, and somebody should volunteer to stop by Enjolras' on their way home to see if he's alright." Ever the voice of reason, Combeferre was met with murmured agreements and much nodding of heads. Several people got up and began to leave, but were stopped by Courfeyrac's yelled protest of:  
"Wait!"  
Courfeyrac had his eyes fixed on something through the window. Cautiously, the rest of the Musain turned their heads to see what it was, half daring to hope--  
Well, it wasn't Enjolras.  
Instead, Azelma, trailed by Gavroche, burst in with a wild look on her face and coattails flying everywhere.  
"PATRONS OF LE CAFÈ MUSAIN!"  
All the muttering intstantly died. Heads turned, and Èponine, recognizing her siblings, rushed over immediately. "What are you doing? I thought Mother told you both that you were to stay at home! I am going to be in so much trouble if you don't get back right this instant. Where have you even been?!" she hissed, shooting enraged glares at the two of them whilst continually trying to usher them out the door.  
"We were bored, so we decided to sneak out the back. While we were out...relieving certain rich strangers of their rather heavy purses, a tall blond man approached us and said he would give us thirty euros if we made a small announcement to the people at Le Cafè Musain. Thirty euros! Can you believe it, 'Ponine? That'll get us through dinner for the next week at least! Anyway, we thought, that's the place 'Ponine goes, isn't it? So we decided to just pop by and make the announcement. You can't be mad at us. We've got means for dinner!"  
Èponine sighed, placing two fingers on the bridge of her nose.  
"Fine. Make your announcement. But it better be worth it, or you answer to Mother."  
Azelma grinned, exposing her missing teeth. Before Èponine could stop her, she ran to the middle of the room and leapt onto a table, startling Grantaire (who had been sitting at it--emphasis on had).  
"LISTEN UP EVERYBODY!!"  
The Musain quieted once more.  
"Some blond guy told me to tell you all that Enchiladas will not be attending meetings for the next week. He said it was due to prior engagements or somethin'. Anyway, that's all. Do whatever you were doing before."  
The entire room, except Grantaire, burst out laughing.  
"What? What is it? I don't see how this is funny!” he snapped, glaring at Courfeyrac, who had fallen off his chair.  
"E...Enchiladas!"  
"Oh."  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Enjolras stormed the rainy streets of Paris alone, not caring that he had forgotten his umbrella at home, or that his coat was lying forgotten on his living room couch. He was drenched, but he either did not notice or care. His mind was focused on one thing only: his friends.  
They had been...absentminded the whole week, murmuring behind his back or rushing out of meetings early. In fact, they were behaving so erratically that Enjolras would not put it past them to be having secret meetings without him. He knew he could be stubborn and irritating at times, but surely that wasn't enough to incite this? Was he really that...dry? No. His friends liked him, he knew that. And whatever they were doing behind his back would probably be explained soon, so he ought not to pry.  
But he was still doubtful.  
He barely noticed when his feet took him to the Musain on default, and he did not remember asking the small lady working the counter if she knew where Èponine (who had worked the shift before; Enjolras had seen her favorite beanie on a shelf behind the counter--she must have been in a hurry) had gone. Neither did he realize what he was doing until he found himself at the gate to Courfeyrac's apartment complex. Taking a deep breath, he dug out a rusted key from his pocket and unlocked the gate. Two minutes and four staircases later, he was at the door to Courfeyrac's apartment. He could hear muffled voices coming from inside--then laughter.  
They were there, he knew. There, doing something--it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were doing it without him. Slowly, he sat down on the floor, alone with his thoughts and the ghosts of laughter coming through the door. Sniffing, he endeavored to will away the burning sensation behind his eyelids--he had sworn, when he was but fifteen (it was a long story), never to cry openly. But now, as he let a soft sob escape, his resolve had been weakened. He leaned back slowly on the wall next to the door, listening to his friends and quietly sobbing. The key to the apartment lay on the floor next to him, forgotten--until one of the faint voices began to grow louder. Starting, Enjolras realized that the voice was approaching the door, and considered darting out before whoever was there opened it and found him. Frowning, he decided against it. Let them find him. Let his friends and followers see him, their faultless and stonelike leader, reduced to a sobbing mess at having been snubbed. Perhaps, at this, they would realize their mistake and apologise, letting him back in...but he knew it was all wishful thinking. They would not rebuke themselves--in all likelihood, they would laugh and throw him out, leaving him humiliated and shivering in the pouring rain. He paled at the notion of this, reaching for the key in order to slip out, unnoticed--until a smiling, laughing Courfeyrac opened the door, to be met with the dripping, puffy-eyed mess that was Enjolras crumpled on the floor against the wall.  
"Enjolras?! What are you doing here? Never mind that, why are you crying?! "  
Courfeyrac crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and softly pulling him into a hug. At this, Enjolras lost all remaining dignity he might have had and began bawling on Courfeyrac's shoulder.  
The other Amis, hearing Enjolras' sobbing, flooded out of the apartment with choruses of "what's wrong?" and "oh my god!"and "Enjolras is crying what do we do??" as they surrounded him.  
The next thing he knew, Enjolras was squashed on a fluffy couch between Jehan and Combeferre, who were rubbing his back and talking in soft voices. Enjolras blinked and tried to focus on what they were saying, ignoring the muttering and panicked whispering in the background.  
Jehan noticed that Enjolras' eyes had focused on him, and immediately began to ask questions gently.  
"Enjolras, what happened? Do you even realize how soaking wet you are right now--we tried to get you to talk, but you weren't responsive-- oh god, Enjolras, we were so worried..."  
Enjolras sniffed and drew his knees to his chest.  
"I-I'm sorry, it's...stupid..."  
"Enjolras, really, what on earth are you talking about? Anybody else would have been...explainable, but you? Enj, you've never cried in front of any of us before. Whatever's bothering you, it's definitely not stupid.”  
Enjolras’ brows furrowed. He lifted his eyes to Jehan’s face and opened his mouth, ready to explain--when he caught sight of the hat Jehan was wearing.  
Jehan never wore hats.  
He stared at it, mind whirring.  
“Wait, Jehan, is that my face?”  
Jehan started, reaching up to his head. Upon feeling the hat’s presence, he blushed a bright red and quickly swept it off, noting the design.  
Enjolras took a few seconds to quickly survey the room, mouth dropping open when he realized that every single member of the Amis had some sort of clothing article on that had been decorated with images of his face juxtaposed against a background of the French flag.  
He instinctively turned to Combeferre.  
“Explain this immediately.”  
Combeferre blushed slightly darker, and brought a hand up to scratch his head. “Well, ah, you see, the thing is that--it was really R’s idea--“  
Grantaire, who had been hovering near the back, worried, flinched when Enjolras’ sharp gaze fixed on him. “Aha. Um. Well, I got this--idea, sort of, that since you're so--um--well, perfect, we could...start a...fan club of sorts. I-it was just an idea, but then we started liking it, and the shirts and hats came later, and then we made jackets, and we were considering advertising, actually--“  
Grantaire continued to talk animatedly, gaining more passion as he went, until all Enjolras could do was to stare at him, gawking.  
“--and so ‘Ponine was like, ‘Well, why don't we have specialized food?’ and I thought that was a really good idea, because up till now we'd only kinda had random stuff, y’know? So we decided that every meeting we’d have a different food, but the food had to sound like your name, which I think is pretty cool--so we had enchiladas last meeting, and this meeting--“  
His trail of words died off as he perceived the stares coming from the rest of the Amis.  
Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut.  
“So I thought I was being a nuisance--that I’d finally driven you all off and you didn’t want to be my friends anymore--only to find out you've all started a godforsaken Enjolras fan club?!”  
Grantaire smiled uneasily.  
“...Maybe?”  
Enjolras frowned. He had humiliated himself for, apparently, nothing.  
“Well.” He stood up awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I have...a...paper to write, so. Uh. I trust you will all attend the next meeting?”  
Combeferre shifted. “Yeah, we’ll be there.”  
Enjolras straightened his collar. Looking around the room awkwardly, he finally settled his eyes on Grantaire, who reddened and dropped his gaze.  
“Oh. And this club.”  
Everyone in the room tensed, expecting a lecture-turned-speech.  
“As long as it doesn't interfere with your duties as a member of Les Amis, you are free to continue. On one condition.”  
“What?” Jehan ventured to ask.  
Enjolras cracked a smile.  
“I want to be there.”  
And with that, he swept out the door, trailing the scent of rain and coffee behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is my first fanfic on here. It's been sitting around on my computer for a while, so I figured I might as well post it! As of right now, I have no idea how the creator side of ao3 works, so bear with me. If you want more ridiculousness, tell me and I might write more!  
> Comments and kudos are my lifeblood!  
> see you on the other side!  
> -Taxicab/Mello


End file.
